


Midnight Kids

by eyasarcher



Series: Shorts [2]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: AU, Bucky really tries to be smooth, Clint is a little bit timid, Kate's a good bro, Kate's got his back, M/M, Prison AU, Steve is a shitty wingman, Stony - Freeform, he needs a big hug, winterhawk - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-10
Updated: 2016-11-17
Packaged: 2018-07-22 18:57:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7450381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eyasarcher/pseuds/eyasarcher
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint's life may feel like it's over, but unfortunately for him, it's not.<br/>After being found guilty of dealing drugs, stealing hundreds upon thousands of pounds, and human trafficking, Clint finds himself in prison. Except he shouldn't even be there because he never did anything wrong.<br/>Things only get worse when some of the scariest people in the place start to pick Clint out.<br/>Okay, this looks bad.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> "I don't know if you're still taking prompts but. Winterhawk prison au. Just think about it." This was left in my ask a little while ago, and I started thinking about it. And then I started writing, and I couldn't stop.  
> So this is now going to be a three part story, which may include some typos and stuff because it's not beta'd.  
> Let me know what you think, and thanks to anon for prompting this.

Comprehension is not something Clint can fathom right now, he can’t even find the energy to cry, let alone think.

So he lays on the cold bed amongst the thin sheets that smell like damp clothes that have been left in a bag for too long. He can’t muster any kind of energy, his whole body feels fuzzy and numb, like pins and needles have invaded his nerves.

Clint Barton, is a criminal. Well, that’s all people are going to see when they look at him now. He’s not some youthful archer with his entire life ahead of him, he’s no longer a world renound carnie. Nope, he’s a criminal.

Except for one thing, he’s not.

That title belongs exclusively to his toe-rag of a brother, Barney. Clint was just in the wrong place at the wrong time, and like rats abandoning a sinking ship, everyone he ever held dear threw him straight to the dogs. So he’s the one that has ended up doing time for their mistakes, the most unlawful thing Clint ever did was the time he stole two packets of crisps and a soda can from a corner shop.

But goddamn, he must have done something awful in a previous life to deserve this kind of shit show.

26 and behind bars. That’s gonna look good on the resume.

He lays on the bed, previously cried tears soaking the dirty pillowcase. He remains still, listening to the sounds of the prison. The careful steps of the guards, the shouting and hollering of restless inmates, the steady breathing of his obese cellmate.

Fucking wonderful.

He spends the next few days dodging any trouble, keeping close to the walls and avoiding eye contact. And after a while, he starts to make a mental list of people and places to avoid, he starts to learn the dynamics of the prison.

The guy that runs the place is Zemo. He’s a calm and composed looking man, you would never assume that he’s a criminal, not if it wasn’t for the orange overalls. But if you look much closer, peel away the layers, there’s a kind of dangerous insanity dancing around in the man’s dull eyes.

Clint had never had any personal encounters with Zemo, but he’s watched from a distance as the man has single handedly brought down and destroyed an entire network of other prisoners plotting against him. He is the kingpin, you don’t fuck with him. And unless you’ve earned his respect and trust, you don’t join him either.

And then there’s S.T.R.I.K.E. A small organisation that are exclusive to Zemo. The team are more or less untouchable, with the perfect combination of braun and brains, you get on their bad side, and you’ll wind up dead. However, Zemo has no respect for the team, they’re merely his toys, and they only stick by him because they want the power and the reputation. Saying that though, Clint’s pretty sure that Rumlow is trying to plan Zemo’s death.

Elsewhere, you have The Avengers. They’ve gained their name through being Zemo’s rivals, but despite their fairly enticing title, the group aren’t exactly the nicest bunch of people around. See, the dynamics are different, there’s no leader, each individual brings something to the table, making them a force to be reckoned with.

There’s been many occasions where Clint has timidly crept into a dark corner as the two groups engaged each other, usually concluding with one or two members of each team being sent to max.

The Avengers consist of Steve Rogers, a hard faced man who similarly to Zemo, appears rather collected and composed. But he has a dark side, Clint’s heard rumours about how he ended up here, but as of yet nothing is confirmed.

But hey, one time Clint saw the guy literally beat an inmate within an each of his life, all because he threatened to take Steve’s rice pudding.

And then there’s Rogers right hand man, Bucky Barnes. Who is absolutely fucking terrifying. Unlike his companion, Barnes has 0 chill, the guy literally carries around and flogs off handmade knives, and with a face like thunder and a pretty scary metal arm, the dude probably murdered at least one person to get himself in here.

And constantly glued to his side, is Natasha Romanoff, who is quite literally an assassin. She’s got a hell of a reputation and Clint has never seen anyone other than Rogers or Barnes rest a hand on her, the one time he did, the guy lost four fingers.

Steve’s full devotion is taken by none other than celebrity genius, Tony Stark. The archer has heard stories about how the guy ended up in here, but he’s obviously never dared to ask. Unlike his counterparts, Tony is a bit more withdrawn and shy, even timid. But that doesn’t mean he’s not a force to be reckoned with, the man has a short fuse and an incredibly talented mind. He’s been to max quite a few times, he finds the most creative ways to hurt people, and then plays them out on his enemies.

Alongside them is Thor. Clint’s still not sure if that’s the guys’ real name, but he sure as hell can see where the nickname came from. The guy is fucking huge, like literally massive. His bicep is probably thicker than Clint’s thigh and his thick hair is constantly tied up into a large messy bun. Now, Thor is a weird one. He’s actually very gentle, the archer has witnessed the larger man helping inmates outside of his team on many occasions, but Clint has also seen the nasty side. Thor once got sent to max for three months because after a member of Strike broke some kid’s hand after the newer inmate tripped and spilled his milk on Rumlow’s overalls, Thor literally fractured the guy’s spinal column.

Then there’s Sam Wilson, a dude with big chocolate puppy dog eyes, and a chilled out demeanour to match. So here’s the thing with Wilson, Clint has never ever seen the guy hurt anyone physically, but he has heard about the emotional blackmail this man has put people through. He’s apparently got links to the outside, and that dude that touched Romanoff? Yeah, well Sam threatened that same guy. He told him _‘If you ever touch her again, you won’t just find yourself in hospital. But I’ll make sure that everyone in the outside world, your family, your friends, the media, everybody, falls under the impression that you are complete sicko. That you got sent down for having some nasty content on your computer. You hearing me?’_

And lastly, there’s Wanda. She’s just a kid, and not long after her brother was brutally murdered by one of Zemo’s lot for just looking at them, Steve brought her under his wing. But she doesn’t go without her quirks. She’s openly spoken to inmates about how she got in here, and it’s certainly not pretty. She’s unpredictable and has a switch blade attitude, she must have been trained in some kind of hand to hand combat before, because she hand’s people their asses all the time.

And in comparison to all these terrifying, massive, scary people. There’s Clint, an orphan carnie who is trained in Archery, self-defence, and kick boxing. It’s hardly Romanoff level skills.

And to be fair, he keeps himself to himself and stays out of trouble, mostly just sticking to the outskirts and trying to find himself closest to the largest guard in the room, just in case something kicks off. And it works, that is until none of other than Brock Rumlow sets his sights on the archer.

Clint’s somehow made friends in this place, they take shape in the form of Scott Lang, and Kate Bishop. Scott is a small time thief who despite being quite integrated into the prison’s community, likes to stick to the edges, just in case. Kate however, is outgoing and cocky, she picks fights with inmates all the time, but never anyone from the rival groups.

So anyway, it all kicks off when Clint and his pair of outcasts are sat off to the corner on one of the dirtier tables, no-one tends to look twice at them, and that’s how Clint likes it. Except today, he looks up only to meet Bucky Barnes’ gaze. The man is crouched low to his dinner tray, stray hairs falling out of his messy bun and across his shadow smothered face, except there’s no denying the eye contact that entails. Barnes is watching Clint, watching him very carefully, his fork is paused on the tray and his full attention is subtly placed on the archer.

Clint feels the colour drain from his face, his whole body goes rigid and his shoulders tense up. Kate, who is sat closely by his side, notices the change in his stance and nudges Clint in the ribs, trying to get his attention. It’s then that she notices the stare off he’s currently having.

“Clint!” She hisses, her head turned slightly so that no-one can read her lips. “Drop the fucking stare, drop it right fucking now.”

“I can’t,” he chokes, his eyes brimming with tears. “If I drop this now, he might come and murder me.”

“He’s more likely to murder you if you keep fucking staring at him with a face like a fish out of water.”

But luckily for the archer, Bucky smirks his mouth pulling up and his eyebrows arching. From beside him Steve notices the two and with a slight laugh digs his elbow into his companion’s ribs. Bucky breaks their gaze and laughs before slapping Steve across the bicep.

Clint’s jaw has fallen open and the half consumed shepherd’s pie falls from his open mouth and lands on the plastic tray with a rather distasteful noise.

“Jesus Christ, Clint. Are you trying to make yourself a target?” Scott laughs from across the table.

“I think it’s too late for that.” Clint says dryly, his head spinning.

And over the next few days, Clint starts to feel himself being watched. There’s a day where he rounds the corridor and immediately the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. He slowly croons his head round, and at the opposite end of the corridor leaning against some cells, is Rogers, Wilson, and Romanoff. All of them watch Clint with blank expressions.

It’s safe to say that he’s scared shitless, so much so that he runs back to his cell, skips dinner, and practically cries himself to sleep.

But at breakfast the next day, Bucky is watching Clint from across the food hall again, his expression is unreadable and dark, his silvery eyes tracing Clint’s every move.

“I’m gonna go shower.” Clint says weakly. He leaves a baffled Scott and Kate in his wake.

But it’s not just The Avengers’ attention that he’s drawing. One afternoon he settles down at one of the furthest benches in the courtyard, he’s watching the clouds moving across the bright sky, a soft smile pulling at his lips.

But despite his hearing aids being dialled down, he hears his name, and it’s not on Scott’s tongue. It’s on Brock Rumlow’s.

Very slowly, and as subtly as possible, the archer drops his head, his eyes following the action. And for a fraction of a second, he meet’s eyes with four members of Strike, including Rumlow himself. The guys are leant against the fence on the opposite side of the courtyard, their faces are stern and venomous, Clint’s name being passed among their lips.

His frame is almost trembling, he’s not invincible anymore, he’s on the radar, and he has no idea why.

He leaves the courtyard in a rush, acid surging up his throat and vomit settling in his stomach. He makes it to the bathroom in time to puke all over the seat of the toilet, his eyes streaming and his nose running.

Okay, this looks bad.

After his encounter with Strike, Clint avoids the busiest hours in the canteen, instead choosing to wake up extra early, wolf down his food, and get back to his cell before anyone even notices him. This means that he misses Kate and Scott completely, and with the nights that follow, he finds himself more restless and lonely than ever.

He finds his thoughts drifting back to Barney and the carnies, wondering where they are and what they’re doing. And very suddenly, he finds himself wishing they’d of just killed him, not used him as a scape goat.

It’s the next morning that Clint’s luck finally runs short. He scurries into the practically empty cafeteria in the hopes of being able to grab some sloppy porridge, eat on his way to the bin, and then run off back to his bunk.

But he’s stopped short when he notices Barnes leant against the wall closest to the food counter, he’s chewing on a toothpick and is watching Clint with a smirk on his lips.

The archer panics, not stepping forwards but instead spinning on his heels and making a run for the exit. But one of the five guards of duty stops Clint with an arm to the chest, his face is sympathetic but his orders are not.

“You have to eat inmate, no ifs or buts.”

And so, reluctantly Clint turns back to the food hall, his heart in his mouth and his stomach falling away.

Barnes is watching him with an amused expression painted onto his features. Clint creeps towards him, his motion tense and unnatural.

And for a few seconds, the archer thinks he’s safe, because he moves most of the way past Barnes without incident.

“You’re a timid little thing, aren’t ya?”

Clint’s breath catches in his throat and he actually chokes, his chest heaving with the sharp pain dancing along his oesophagus.  

“Careful there, Doll. Don’t wanna hurt yourself.” Bucky places a steadying hand on Clint’s shoulder and sends him a warm smile. This of course prompts Clint to not only choke again, but rather inappropriately his face flushes red. Because damn, he never noticed how attractive Bucky is.

“Jesus fucking Christ, are you trying to give me a heart attack.” Clint tries, his voice catching and faltering. “Actually, don’t answer that.” He chokes.

Bucky laughs, his arm folding itself across Clint’s shoulder and slowly nudging him towards the counter.

“Don’t worry. I’m not out to get you.”

Clint laughs drly and shrugs off Bucky’s arm, he gives the bigger man a pointed glare and brushes off his shoulder in a disgusted manner.

“Sure you ain’t.”

“Look pal, if I wanted to kill you, I would have done it ages ago.” Bucky chuckles and tucks his hands into the pockets of his overalls. “Actually, I came to warn you.”

The archer thankfully doesn’t choke again, but his chest does falter and his breathing shallows out. Why is he suddenly in hot water? He hasn’t done anything wrong.

“Oh god, what’s going on? I looked at Rogers once, I’m so sorry. I’ll never look at him ever again, it was honestly for just like a millisecond-“

“Calm down.” Bucky says seriously, his features pulling together in a concerned manner. “We’re not after you. I promise. You’ve done nothing to us, or any of our friends. You’re perfectly fine.” Bucky sighs and pulls his lips together into a pout, his shoulders slumping as he walks. “You’re okay with us anyways, Strike. Not so much.”

Clint stops all together, his shoulders coming together as the contents of his stomach start to swirl around.

“What? Why?”

Bucky actually laughs, he fucking laughs. The larger man ducks his head between his shoulders and glares down at the floor, a slight smile playing on his lips.

“Well that’s just the problem.”

Clint arches an eyebrow and watches the man intently, his whole body numb and tingly with the news that had just been bestowed upon him.

“It’s because I’ve had my eye on you since you got here. They’ve noticed that I’ve taken a liking to you.” Bucky says lowly, his eyes searching the room for any of their rivals.

“Wait, come again. What is that supposed to mean?” Clint snaps as he reaches across Bucky to grab one of the plastic trays, his heart is racing and his mouth is dry, but since Bucky isn’t going to kill him, he should at least try and act cool.

Bucky’s cheeks light up a little and his eyes gleam as he looks to the archer.

“Well, it means what it means.”

Barnes slips a tray across the counter and waits for the slop to be dropped into one of the segments of his tray. All the time his eyes stay on Clint, watching him for any kind of reaction.

“I’m sorry, but you’re gonna have to spell it out for me,” the archer huffs as he piles fruit slices onto his tray.

“For fuck sake, this isn’t exactly a great environment to just say this sorta stuff. Normally I’d be in a bar, I’d of had a few drinks. Y’know, more confident.” Bucky says under his breath, his Brooklyn accent nips at the edges of his words and it’s that accent that actually makes Clint really think.

Oh god.

“Wait. You’ve taken a liking to me, as in-“Clint stops himself, his cheeks quickly flushing a bright shade of red. “When you were watching me from across the table, that time that I noticed. You were trying to flirt?”

Bucky’s laugh is almost a bark, it’s loud and it actually makes the woman behind the counter jump a little, earning Bucky a stern glare.

“You finally caught on. That’s why the others have been hovering around too, they’ve been ripping into me for weeks.”

Clint’s actually struggling to hold his plate up right now, this is an awful lot of stuff to filter in a short space of time.

“But, I don’t even know you,” the archer splutters, his legs barely carrying him to the end of food bar.

“I know. I’ve been trying to find the right time to speak to you, I noticed you more or less the second you got here.” Bucky smirks inwardly, his hair casting shadows across his pale skin. “I was gonna talk to you in here a few days back, Natasha was ready to propel me from my chair the second you walked in. But you never came.”

“Yeah, well you can’t blame me. I was not aware that you were trying to flatter me, I thought you were gonna send me to my grave.”

Bucky dips his head shyly, loose pieces of hair falling into his face.

“Yeah, sorry about that. I just didn’t think it would be appropriate to just walk up to you and start flirting, that would of probably made you a target for Zemo a lot quicker as well.”

Clint sighs heavily, his eyes falling closed as he takes time to filter and comprehend the information surging through his brain.

“So he caught wind of your….” The archer pauses and takes time to think of an appropriate term. “Crush, and wanted to spite you.”

Bucky nods and moves to usher Clint to one of the furthest tables. Slowly the canteen is filling up, dribs and drabs are starting to pour in. The archer notices this because he makes direct eye contact with Kate who has just joined the queue, her eyes are wild and her jaw is slack.

“So, here’s the thing. I wanted to offer you protection, a place on our group.”

Clint nearly chokes again, this time on the sloppy porridge. He was talented with a bow and arrow, but he couldn’t even hurt a fly, let alone defend himself against another human being.

“Dude, no offense. But you guys are fucking tanks, and I’m…. Well, me.”

Bucky looks up from his place across the table, he makes intense eye contact with Clint, his pupils dilating and his shoulders tensing up a little.

“If you’re with us, you’ll be okay. We can teach you stuff, you know. And don’t worry, I get it if you’re not like.” Bucky swings his fork through the air and his cheeks start to glow again. “Into guys or whatever. But either way, we look out for people in this prison, and I wouldn’t want to see you getting hurt when you’ve not done anything even remotely wrong. You don’t have to join us if you really don’t want to, but at least let us help you.”


	2. Chapter 2

“So, we missed you this morning.” Kate mumbles through her mouthful of food. “I mean, we’ve been missing you for a while now, but I never realised it was because you were hiding.”

“Yeah, she saw you this morning with Barnes.” Scott pipes up. He’s stopped picking at his food and is instead waving the plastic fork around. He’s also giving Clint a light but accusing glare.

“So, what’s the deal?” Kate says lowly as she brings herself closer to the tray, her eyes are set on the archer, her stare scrutinising and transparent.

Clint huffs into his tray and carefully places down the cutlery, trying to avoid any more unwanted attention. He deflates, his shoulders dropping and his head cocking in tired circles.

“He wants to recruit me,” he barely says, his voice shallow and flat.

“What?!” Kate hisses, her tone definitely more accusing than before.

“Well, at least we know that we’re not going to have to make you a shitty gravestone out of plastic spoons and toothpicks.” Scott suggests, his shoulders coming up into a shrug.

“Shut the fuck up.” Kate plants her elbow firmly into the older man’s side, and only lightens up when Scott recoils in mock pain. “No offense, Barton. But you’re no Thor.”

“Yeah, tell me about it.” Clint says under his breath, his eyes moving from the sludge on his plate, to the rest of the canteen.

Across the room, Barnes, Rogers, and Stark are watching him. Rogers’ face is unreadable, Bucky is smirking, and Stark is obviously ripping into Barnes because he’s chattering against the other man’s ear, a smile painted onto his face.

But it’s not their gaze that Clint is worried about. Only a few meters away is Zemo and his group of idiots. The unsettling man is watching Clint carefully, his blue eyes sparked with interest. He notices the archers gaze and slowly, an unnerving smile grows against his lips.

“Someone’s out to get me.” Clint whispers dryly, his eyes moving away from the terrifying man.

Kate doesn’t have to look over her shoulder to know exactly who Clint is talking about. She actually pales a little, which is horrible for Clint to see because Kate’s fear rarely materialises.

“Why? Why are they out to get you?” She asks carefully, her eyes now fixed on the middle of the table. She’s gone rigid, her shoulders squared and her hands tensed into fists.

“Well.” The archer feels himself light up, the blush creeps up the back of his neck and lays itself on his cheeks. “I’m a target because someone has become rather fond of me.”

“Pfft! Who? We’re your only friends.” Scott exclaims as he resumes eating. Kate flicks her head to send the other man a sharp glare. Clint’s pretty sure that if she had a weapon, she would definitely have killed Scott by now.

“I wouldn’t say friendship is where the fondness stems from.” The archer admits through his embarrassment.

Immediately both Kate and Scott snap their gaze back to Clint, both of them looking somewhere between shocked and amused.

“Wait… So someone in The Avengers… has taken a fancy to you.” Kate’s face lightens a little as she bites her lip in an attempt to hold back laughter.

“Who is it!? Is it Romanoff!? Dude, how on earth have you managed to get her attention!?”

Kate slaps Scott’s arm and switches her attention back to Clint.

“Shud’ up, Scott. It’s obviously Maximoff. She’s pretty young and naïve, she wouldn’t realise how much of an idiot Barton actually is-“

“Actually.” Clint stops the two, he’s pretty offended by the assumptions. “It’s Barnes.”

And there’s no going back. Because the two are recoiled over the table in fits of laughter. Clint slumps in his chair, huffs, and crosses his arms over his chest. The laughter only gets louder when Kate tries to compose herself only to fall into fits again.

And because of this, they’re gaining unnecessary attention. From the table beside them, Frank Castle and Elektra are watching with murderous glares, their conversation obviously interrupted by the abrupt giggling.

“Please be quiet.” Clint grimaces as he sinks further into his chair.

“I’m sorry. But I find that real difficult to believe.” Kate whispers before laughing again, there are actual tears on her face now.

The archer peers around, more eyes are slowly falling on them. In fact, Brock Rumlow is actually starting to get out of his chair, he looks about ready to come kill someone.

“Guys, please stop-“

Bucky slides onto the bench beside Clint with an odd kind of elegance. Well, at least for a man of his stature.

The two both snap themselves into form, their laughs trailing off and their faces slowly glowing with embarrassment and fear.

“Please, don’t stop the party on my behalf.” Bucky drools as he reaches across Clint’s tray to grab one of the apple slices. He makes sure to keep the pairs gaze as he pinches the bottom of the apple and flicks it into his mouth. A smile forming as he chews.

And Clint has to admit, he’s pretty impressed. Not only has Bucky managed to silence the dynamic duo, but he’s also proved himself by making an appearance on Clint’s behalf, despite being watched by more or less the entire canteen.

“I guess Barton’s bestowed the news upon you two? And I’m guessing by the laughter, that it’s not the bad news.”

Kate swallows thickly and takes a deep breath, her eyes narrowing a little from the initial shock.

“Yeah,” is all she says, her voice deeper and more gravelly than normal. The archer has never seen her so tense and fearful.

“Well, all’s good then.” Bucky says with a smug smile, he reaches over and starts picking at Clint’s food again, and weirdly enough, the archer doesn’t mind that much.

“James, I really don’t think you should be eating his food.”

Thor’s booming voice causes Clint to jump so hard that his knees hit the table, Scott to knock his tray off the table sending food careering across the floor, and Kate to throw herself off of the bench and jump into a defensive position.

There’s a low laugh from behind Thor as Romanoff struts across to sit herself on the edge of the bench just beside Clint. And slowly, the rest of The Avengers filter themselves onto the table, squishing up against one another.

The metal of Bucky’s left arm sends a shockwave of goose bumps sliding down Clint’s skin, the cool metal coming into contact with his bare arm. This prompts Barnes to tilt his head to look at the archer, a gentle smile appearing on his features.

And for someone he barely trusts, Clint find’s home in Bucky’s stormy grey eyes. They send some kind of warmth shuddering through his body, and they provide him with a sense of security, something similar to what he used to feel when he looked into his mum’s eyes.

So he decides to smile back, as best he can. And this in turn, seems to startle the other man. Bucky’s smile widens and he ducks his head to hide the blush obviously creeping across his expression.

“You can sit back down.” Rogers says gently at Kate, who still looks like she’s ready for a fight.

“I don’t know if I want to.”

Romanoff reaches across and picks up a piece of orange from Kate’s plate.

“Just sit down sweet cheeks. We’re not here to hurt you. Quite the opposite actually.” Natasha’s voice is silky, smooth, and composed as she tilts her head to gesture at Strike, who are now all watching the group.

Kate slouches in defeat and timidly takes a seat beside Scott, who is squashed against Stark. But he doesn’t look scared, in fact, he’s looking around the team with an awe filled expression etched onto his face.

“So, why you doing time?” Steve asks carefully as he looks between Scott and Kate.

“That’s a bit forward.” Kate snaps as she narrows her eyes at the blondie.

Rogers laughs lightly and looks around the table.

“I mean no harm by the question. I just figured if Clint does join us, that you two would either be under our protection, or with us.”

“No offense, but I don’t need protecting. And what does knowing why I’m here have anything to do with joining.” Kate doesn’t seem convinced. She’s squared and tense, her eyes clouding with fear and anger. Clint finds her eyes, and tries his best to reassure her.

“I’m not saying that you need protection. I’ve heard the whispers Kate Bishop, you can look after yourself. But I’ve seen so many capable individuals injured or killed by those thugs, I don’t want you to be one of them.” Steve sighs and shifts his gaze over Wanda, who is tucked in beside Tony. “I only ask because it’s something we disclose before anyone joins. I don’t care if you stole an ipad, or if you killed a guy. I just want to make sure that we can trust you.”

“Well I can’t trust you.” Kate says under her breath.

“I know. But we can work on that.” Steve tries, his face donning a gentle smile.

Clint watches Kate continue to bicker, and then seizes the opportunity to dig his elbow into Bucky’s ribs, gaining his attention.

“You didn’t tell me that part. About knowing why I’m here.”

Bucky laughs a little gently nudging Clint back with his metal arm.

“Can’t be any worse than what any of us have done.”

“How do you know?” Clint’s throat dries up as he watches Bucky’s expression darken a little.

“Because, Clint Barton.” Bucky leans into Clint’s space a little, his breath licking the delicate skin behind the archers ears. “You’re The Amazing Hawkeye, world famous carnie. The fact that you’ve ended up here, is an injustice in itself. The court just don’t care. You have no parents or guardians, and a brother who would rather stand against you. They don’t care about what you have to say, they just want you out of their hair. We know that you’re not supposed to be in here, doll.” Bucky’s voice is even and stern, his speech favouring Clint’s side.

“How the hell-“

“We know everything about everyone.” Bucky explains, now leaning away from the smaller man. “Don’t worry. I know that you’re not guilty.”

Clint zones out a little, his heart is thumping in his chest and the sound is bouncing off the walls of his mind. Someone actually gives a shit, for the first time since Barney. Someone actually cares about Clint’s story. And for a few moments, he’s pretty sure the ground has fallen away from under his feet. There’s potential here. This group might not just become his protectors, but also his family.

“Hey.” Natasha’s gentle voice grounds Clint. He swivels his head to look at her. She’s so incredibly beautiful. Not many men can get close enough to see her true beauty, but here Clint is, practically nose to nose with her. “You okay there, pal?”

He nods and clenches the edge of the table to stop the room from spinning.

“Hey, let me know if you need some water or something.” Natasha places a careful hand at the nape of Clint’s neck, and for some reason, a wave of relief washes across the oceans of his mind. Her presence equally as reassuring as Bucky’s.

“Yeah, will do. Thank you.” The archer mumbles, his voice catching in the back of his throat.

“So, if Clint joined. You would both join?”

The conversation has since moved on, and obviously Rogers has found mutual ground with Kate and Scott. Kate is staring at Clint, something he was unaware of until this point.

“I mean, I’d join either wa-“Scott starts, but Kate reaches across and lands a heavy thump against his chest.

“More than likely. But it’s not a promise, and it’s definitely not for your benefit.” Kate looks the archer up and down. “It’s for his,” she grimaces.

“Anyone would think that I’m incapable. Why don’t you guys assign me a babysitter whilst we’re at it?” Clint laughs. It’s only when the group falls silent that he realises maybe the joke was kind of inappropriate.

He internally winces.

“By the looks of things, buddy.” Stark pipes up, a broad grin on his face. “You’ve already got at least two.” Tony flicks his eyes between Kate and Bucky, his expression light and genuine.

Clint meekly peers up at Bucky, who is smiling down at the table, a blush clipping the ends of his lashes.

And you know what. Clint is pretty sure he could get used to that face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for not updating this sooner. To make up for the wait, and the length. I've decided to add an additional two chapters to this story.  
> Thanks for all the comments and messages and stuff for this story so far. I'm really enjoying it.  
> Sending my love and thanks as always,  
> Sophie.


	3. Chapter 3

Clint’s routine takes a sharp and sudden turn, he no longer finds himself spending days creeping through the canteen before running back to his bunks. Instead, he’s somewhat unwillingly being dragged around the prison by The Avengers being introduced to their schedule.

He finds out that straight after breakfast, Stark and Thor do rounds of the prison making sure that all inmates under their _witness protection programme_ , as Stark like to refer to it, are safe and secure. This takes up a good hour or so of the trio’s time, but it’s okay because Clint finds that the pair are fairly easy to talk to and before he knows it, he’s being passed onto Rogers and Wilson.

Steve and Sam are definitely a lively duo, the two drag Clint along to their two and a half hour gym stint, which very surprisingly, is quite relaxing. They put him through the runs, swapping him between the treadmills, the shoulder presses, the pull up bar, and the bench press.

“You’re a lot stronger than you think, Barton. How much do you pull on a bow?” Sam smirks at Clint who is currently warming down, and who is also trying to disguise his flattered blush with a post-exercise flush.

“Usually I pull about 70 pounds, but it fluxes.” Clint is a little boastful, if there’s one thing he prides himself on, it’s his abilities with a bow.

Steve gawps a little bit, his sit ups faltering as he looks between Sam and Clint.

“Damn, that’s pretty impressive. How long you been doing archery for?” Sam crosses his arms against his chest and watches Clint with a growing sense of awe.

“About seventeen years, started really young.” Clint returns to his sit ups, trying to ignore Steve and Sam watching him. “Gave me something to do.”

Sam laughs a little before leaving the pair to get on with their warm down. And Clint feels a little better about himself after that, if he can impress Steve Rogers, then he might actually have a chance at surviving his sentence.

After getting showered and collecting their fresh overalls, Wilson and Rogers pass Clint onto Barnes, Maximoff, and Romanoff. And the archer is surprised to learn that the trio don’t participate in some kind of mafia, instead the three just relax in the courtyard, at least that’s what today’s activity is. Natasha is laid in Bucky’s lap reading a book, Maximoff is at her feet threading little red beads onto a delicate piece of string. Barnes is happy to just chat quietly to Clint and answer any questions. The company reminds Clint of the carnies, how a couple of the assistants, the ‘bearded lady,’ and the fortune teller would sit around a camp fire most nights and tell tall tales of freak shows and performances gone wrong.

“…Sometimes we play basketball, or go find Tony and Thor in the canteen. Other times we go about flogging weapons and stuff, or sometimes we have a nice relaxed afternoon such as today.” Bucky feeds back to Clint, his hands distractedly combing through the crimson waves of Natasha’s hair.

“Still sounds about a hundred times more productive than my usual day. I’m actually exhausted from all these activities.” Clint finds that he’s rolling his shoulders against his neck, all of the muscles in his back screaming with exhaustion, he hasn’t been this active for around six months.

Bucky gives Clint his full attention, his grey eyes sliding across every inch of the man, mapping out every crease and scar on his skin.

“Do you trust us?” Bucky asks carefully, his expression has fallen serious and his gaze is fixed on Clint. Natasha proceeds to act as if she’s fully enveloped in her book, but Clint doesn’t miss the way that she tenses up, her eyes flicking up to give Bucky a menacing look.

Clint doesn’t reply at first, mostly because it’s a question he has to think about. He doesn’t really know the group, and he’s not very well adjusted to the situation, and yet he does find himself trusting the gang. It’s not the kind of trust he places in Kate, it’s not that kind of bond yet, but generally, yes.

“I guess so, I mean, I barely know you guys.” Clint’s words are careful and considerate, his eyes never meeting Bucky’s. “But I feel like I can trust you. All of you.”

Bucky smirks and moves to continue running his hands through Natasha’s glorious hair. Clint can’t help but wonder how exactly the guy had ended up in this place, and how exactly the pair of them had ended up in this awkward situation.

“So, Clint. Given anymore thought into our pal, Bucky?” Natasha says bluntly, although given the scheming grin that’s etching its way onto her features, the man knows she’s being serious.

“Nat-“ Bucky’s cheeks gain some redness, his eyes growing wide as he sends the woman a warning glare. This doesn’t seem to affect her at all, and now even Wanda is listening in having stopped her previous activities.

“Clint?” she presses.

The archer takes a moment to look at Bucky, there’s no denying the man is handsome, even with the long hair and hard demeanour, he’s a surprisingly warm and gentle person, he acts like a womanizer and a punk, but Clint can see behind the disguise. It’s just a bonus that he looks like he was handmade by the gods.

“He’s alright.” The archer quips, a smirk pulling at the corners of his mouth. Bucky mocks being hurt, his hands pressing to his chest as he gawps at the other man.

“I’m offended, just _alright_?!”

“Yeah, you’re alright.” Clint chuckles before winking suggestively.

Bucky lights up a little, his cheeks once again gaining a plum like colour. But he doesn’t duck his head this time, instead he gives Clint a confident and beaming smile, his eyes darkening a little as he does.

The rest of the day is spent in bed. Clint finds himself overwhelmed and exhausted, and decides that turning in at about 2pm is the best bet. And for once his eyes fall closed without threats of a nightmare. He sleeps well for the first time since arriving.

He wakes up again at around 5 O’clock and finds that there’s a comfortable ache in his bones that signifies a good and heavy sleep. And so when he arrives in the canteen for dinner, he’s practically glowing with content.

“Wow, Clint.” Kate looks a little flabbergasted when the archer takes his normal spot at the seat across from her. “You actually look alive.”

Clint smiles at her and shrugs, his stomach roaring with the promise of food. He’s just about to dig in when Bucky slides onto the bench beside him, and despite the length of the seat, the man is squashed up tightly to the archer, his cool metal arm sending goose bumps careering up Clint’s arm.

“Hey, Doll,” he drawls as he nudges Clint with his elbow.

“Buck, don’t bombard the poor man.” Steve is clearly the voice of reason in this group, his eyes practically rolling into the back of his head as he takes a seat beside Kate, who despite being tensed up, seems okay with this.

“Excuse me, but I’m not bombarding you, am I?” Bucky looks at Clint, all wide eyed and hopeful. So despite wanting to eat in peace, Clint can’t help himself.

“No, he’s fine,” he says with a smile. And it’s worth it, because the archer can feel Bucky’s happiness falling off in waves and it’s nice. Clint’s missed making people happy, it’s what he used to do at the carnival, his job was to awe people and bring them a sense of joy, and it’s been far too long since he felt genuine happiness.

Steve must pick up on this because he sends Clint what can only be described as a thankful smile, his whole face glowing with appreciation.

“Where’s the others?” Kate asks timidly, her voice struggling to cut through as normal.

“They’ll be here soon enough, they’re just finishing up whatever plans they had for the day-“

“So, Barnes. Is this your new toy?”

Clint’s whole body runs cold as he feels an unfamiliar hand comb through his hair. He doesn’t move, doesn’t even look because he knows exactly who the hand belongs to, and given how quickly Bucky has stood up, he’s not okay with it at all.

“Don’t worry, Pal. I’m not hurting him.” Rumlow’s hand fists in Clint’s hair giving it a small tug, as if to test Bucky’s patience.

“Don’t touch him.” Bucky spits. And this is the side Clint has seen, the squared Bucky with the poisonous voice and terrifying demeanour.

Rumlow’s hand loosens in Clint’s hair before he crouches down to get in the archer’s face, his narrowed eyes finding Clint’s.

“You his new toy?” Rumlow’s voice is thick and threatening, his nostrils flaring with what can only be described as pent up hatred.

“Fuck you.” The archer spits back weakly, he’s not going to be threatened. Not by Brock Rumlow.

There’s a fire in the man’s eyes as he gives Clint the once over, but he doesn’t lash out, instead he stays right up in his face until he’s shoved away by Bucky.

“Get the fuck away from him, now!” Bucky takes another step towards Rumlow, and this of course catches the guard’s attention.

“Inmates. Don’t.”

Steve steps in, his arm pressing tightly to Bucky’s chest as he pushes his friend back.

“Don’t do this, Buck. He isn’t worth going to max for.”

Clint takes this as an opportunity and reaches out to take Bucky’s flesh hand in his own, the other man jumps a little before he looks back at the archer, his expression softening when their gazes meet.

“He’s right. C’mon, come sit down.”

Bucky looks back to Rumlow, who is watching the pair with a smirk. And then he looks to Steve, Kate, and then finally back to Clint. And somewhat reluctantly he extracts himself from the situation, a frustrated sigh falling from his lips.

“He’s a pretty one, Barnes. Watch your backs.” Rumlow bites before he swivels on his feet and returns to his group.

“Fucking asshole.” Bucky whispers as he takes his space beside Clint, their hands still tightly clasped together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god, that's right, after two months I finally updated a fic. I've been pre-occupied with work and stuff recently because our managers and keyholders left meaning responsibility was unfortunately thrust upon me. But I'm back now, and that'd what matters.  
> So thank you for being patient, and sorry for any typos and stuff. Thanks again, love always,  
> Sophie.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I'm alive, I have re-emerged after a month or so of not writing!  
> Firstly, thank you for sticking around and being patient with this story, despite how much I enjoy writing this, I sometimes have to take a break and have a bit of a breather, but the good news is that I'm extending this story to a full fic!! I've got so many tricks up my sleeve, and I'm incredibly excited  
> Secondly, this chapter isn't going to be fab, there's probably going to be typos as I haven't bothered to re-read it this time, and it's also a filler, so it's rather short. But you guys deserved an update, so here it is! Thanks again for keeping up with me, and for all the lovely feedback!  
> Have a good one,  
> Sophie

“Everything has changed so quickly.” Kate presses herself against the pull up bar, despite her size and initial appearance, Kate Bishop can hold her own and she’s certainly a force to be reckoned with. “How are you coping?” she asks Clint, her tone flat and almost nonchalant.

Clint sighs and rocks forward on the bench to catch his head in his hands. Things have certainly changed in a very short space of time, and the archer isn’t sure whether he should laugh or cry.

Clint Barton has always been out of place and out of time, never really feeling at home anywhere. For a while, he felt that the circus was a place he could call home, if only temporarily, but it contained people he considered family, and he had a roof over his head. But exceeding even his own expectations, that fantasy very quickly crumbled away.

So now he’s in this situation, where he’s starting to adjust to the system and dare he say, is becoming comfortable, his old self beginning to push back through the crevices. For the first time in a very long time, Clint is feeling worthy and purposeful, like his life has gained a new kind of meaning, which is something strange after so long of feeling like he could evaporate and no-one would notice or care.

But to every silver lining, there is a cloud, and his cloud is a fat old black one that goes by the name of Zemo. Clint has managed to claw his way into a group, and gained their trust. But he’s also gained the eyes of the some of the scariest people in this place, and it’s really not something he’s taking lightly.

“I don’t know what I feel, or what I think anymore, Kate. Jesus, my whole life has always been so fucking complicated, nothing is ever easy or simple,” the man dredges his fingers through his hair, pulling at loose knots. “My family was complicated, between my parents and Barney, I’m surprised I got this far. My relationships and friendships have always been complicated. And now here I am, being pined over by some weirdly attractive psychopath who I’ve known for five minutes, I’m being eyed by the most evil group of people I’ve ever seen, and I’m friends with an actual human being named Thor. I’d pick the carnies over this colossal mess any day of the week.”

Kate is watching Clint intensely, her expression shuttered and dark. She drops from the bar and falls into a crouch at Clint’s feet, her hands finding a place on his knees.

“Okay, first of all, I’m not complicated Clint Barton, and I’m actually a little affronted that you would insult our friendship with that term. Secondly, Clint babe, in case you haven’t noticed, you’re in prison, so no matter what would of happened, your time here was never going to be simple.” Kate sighs and jerks her head a little to flick away a stray hair falling across her eyes. “I love you, I truly do. But life fucks us all in one way or another, and we just have to wade through the copious amounts of shit to try and find a little bit of fresh water. So look, yes, Zemo wants to skin you and wear your flesh like a trophy, but that’s not gonna happen. You know why?”

Clint huffs and shifts his eyes to meet Kate’s gaze, her stormy blue eyes alight with a renewed kind of energy, she reaches forward and cups the archers face in her hands, her face stern and determined.

“You’ve got a family here. It might not be big, or biological, or even that functional. But you’ve got one in me, in Scott, in The Avengers. I know you’re capable Clint, I know deep in there somewhere is a fire, but in the meantime, we’ll do the fighting for you. You’re never gonna be on your own again, I promise.”

Clint chuckles and pulls away from Kate’s hands, a smirk planted on his lips.

“Wow Katie, you have such a way with words. I especially liked the part about being skinned.”

Kate’s features fall into a frown as she rocks back on her heels and falls dramatically onto the floor.

“Jesus Christ Clint, I was trying to be all inspirational and motivational, but of course you had to shit all over it.”

Clint drops to the floor beside Kate, fully aware of the guards watching the pair, their hands rested on their guns in a warning.

“Thank you, Katie-Kate. I really do appreciate it, I’m glad you’ve got my back.”

“Okay inmates, you’ve maxed out on your gym time. Back to the mess hall for lunch,” one particularly disgruntled guard announces, prompting a simultaneous sigh from the duo.

“Well, I guess it’s time to move.” Kate pushes herself from the ground, her posture seeming withered and sad. “You heading to lunch straight away?” she turns back to look at Clint who is still sprawled out on the ground, his eyes scanning the room.

“Yeah, my ride is here.”

Kate follows his line of sight to see Bucky kicked back against the far wall next to the door, a toothpick sitting between his smile, and his arms folded across his chest, his whole manner relaxed and easy. Bishop smiles at him before looking back at Clint, whose eyes are fixed on the man, all wide and saucer like.

“You like him?” she ventures, this of course earns her quite the scowl, but a blush none the less. “Oh my god, you really do.”

Clint groans before pulling himself to his feet, his face still ablaze with a blush. Okay, so he might find Barnes incredibly attractive, endearing, and sweet. But that doesn’t mean he necessarily likes him as such, just has a little bit of a crush.

“Kate, don’t be so childish,” the archer moves away from his partner and heads for the door, still trying to shrug the blush. But Kate slips her arm around his shoulder, her lips finding his ear.

“You’re a bad liar Clint.”

“I barely know the guy,” he turns to send her a pointed glare, trying to scare her off, but she just giggles.

“Doesn’t mean you won’t get to know him. What’s to lose? You already know he likes you, why not go for it?”

“Because I barely kno-“

“Hey.” Bucky meets the pair in the middle, his voice is thick with attitude and there’s a very enticing smirk sat against his lips, one that makes Clint’s throat run dry. “You joining us for lunch, Bishop?”

Bucky moves to lace an arm across Clint’s shoulder, replacing where Kate’s was only a few moments ago. But this touch is much different, the graze of Bucky’s finger tips against the base of Clint’s neck sends a parade of goosebumps up and down his body.

“Not this time, I wouldn’t want to interrupt, but you boys have fun, won’t you?” Kate winks at Clint before swishing her hips and flicking her hair, disappearing out of the door. And as Bucky’s mouth opens to say something, Clint spots Zemo standing just outside of the door, his face completely unreadable as he watches the two.

“What’s up doll, you look like you’ve seen a ghost?” Bucky drawls as he adverts his gaze from Clint, to the door, his relaxed demeanour immediately dropping. Clint feels the way his Barnes’ arm tightens around his shoulder, pulling him that little bit closer.

“Inmates, time to leave. Now,” the same guards is now unstrapping the gun from his holster, looking particularly unamused.

Bucky takes a confident step forward, his arm dropping and ghosting its way down Clint’s before their hands intertwine. Clint doesn’t have time to react before he’s being dragged out of the door, the other man’s metal hand cold in his own.

They don’t look at Zemo, the pair drop their gazes to the floor and fly out of the room and down the hall so quickly, that for a moment Clint has to catch his breath.

“You can run, but I will always find you,” comes Zemo’s thick accented voice, his tone sadistic and menacing, one that causes Bucky to tighten his hand in Clint’s, and the archer to shudder. They’re running out of time.


End file.
